


Too Beautiful to Fear

by Payson_Blinde



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Boys In Love, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, John is very forward, M/M, Slow Burn, Smitty is very bashful, Sorcerers, both perspectives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-04-01 07:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13993677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Payson_Blinde/pseuds/Payson_Blinde
Summary: Sorcerers are revered and feared. They make up less than 0.00001% of the population, but hold the capacity for potentially infinite power over their physical environments. They are superhuman, and as some would say, an immeasurable threat to mankind.But John, a nonchalant, no-shits-given video editor, is hardly a global threat. All he really wants is a couple uninterrupted days of sleep, food, and- hold up, who's that adorable idiot running down the street?First meeting/falling in love of John and Smitty, told from both perspectives.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know, the perspectives look pretty amateurish, please bare with me.

\--- Smitty's POV ---

I was late. It was a Monday, my first day living in America, working for this mega-corporation that was taking a serious chance on me – and I was _late._ I was panicked out of my mind; if I wasn't in the building in ten minutes, that could be my job gone – and I didn't even know where it was. I'd never been so close to fainting in my life. 

I sprinted around the corner to the bus stop that would take me to the city, and the damn thing was under construction. I didn't even think, just started running. I figured this had to be the right general direction. It was a good few minutes of just sprinting before I thought to use my phone. I didn't slow down, I just pulled it from my pocket and started haphazardly looking for directions. I didn't even register I was about cross a street until an old man grabbed my jacket, and a car came screeching by me, right under my nose. I thanked him profusely, but I was honestly petrified. That's when I realised, I wasn't holding my phone anymore.

It was in the street. I watched in horror as cars sped by, praying to whatever god there was that it would somehow survive – and immediately it was crunched. 

Short story, I'd just moved to the country yesterday, I was about to lose a break-through job, and I was completely lost in a city I'd never even seen a map of. I wanted to _scream._

John, on the other hand, was sitting in his apartment, watching intently out his window as a certain young man dropped his phone, picked it up with mournful sadness, and then promptly threw it with full force back onto the concrete. The young man – me, yes – then stood leaning against a building, trying to catch his breath. This would somehow inspire John's first outing from his apartment in about a week.

“You okay?”

I looked up to see a man standing in front of me, his hands in his pockets. He had long, white, scraggly hair that he mysteriously pulled off, and wore designer clothing that looked like they could probably use a wash. He had these blue-green eyes that looked like he was about to fall asleep on you, but was also listening with deep interest. He didn't make sense and if I hadn't been so infuriated at the time, I would have taken a moment to appreciate that.

I looked down at my phone, still laying on the sidewalk beside me, like garbage in a pile of metal shards.

“Not really,” I answered truthfully. “Do you know where the Pennington Designs building is?”

The man nodded. “Yeah, about three miles that way,” he answered, pointing the direction I'd come. I'm pretty sure I felt my heart trying to off itself right then. And I thought I was on the verge of a breakdown _before._

I grasped at my hair. “No, no, you've gotta be kidding me!” I cried, torn between booking it and just sinking onto the cement.

The man took a step toward me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, man, look – I can just port you.”

My eyes went wide. My jaw just about hit the ground. “Wait – hold on, you mean like, _teleport?_ Are you serious?” Sorcerers are incredibly, _incredibly_ rare. A couple are celebrities, but apart from that, they're basically unicorns; I've met exactly one in my life, and I don't think I need to tell you who it is. But more than that, this guy was offering to save my _ass._

The man nodded again. “Yeah. Let's go around here though, I don't want people asking for favors.” he muttered, walking to the back of the building I'd previously taken refuge against. 

I followed him around and he turned toward me. “Quick deal, I do this, and you let me get you home.”

I blinked. “Well shit, I mean, alright.” I chuckled.

“Cool, what time?” he asked.

“Five,” I answered, a smile sneaking up on me.

“No take-backs,” he warned.

“No take-backs.” I agreed. He put his hand on my shoulder, and everything went white.

When reality faded back in, I was incredibly nauseous, but more importantly, I was at work. I thanked him, he gave a nod and flashed away like a glitch. My head was spinning, but I could hardly complain.

\--- John's POV ---

Back in my hometown, people knew I was a sorcerer before I ever met them. My parents thought it was pretty cool, and word gets around fast. There's about a twenty-minute window where you're this big celebrity, and everyone wants to ask you about all sorts of crazy shit. And after that, you turn into everyone's go-to for every little problem. It drove me fucking nuts. Damn near every day, so and so needs whatever the fuck it is, and it doesn't matter what you were doing because this is your fucking life now.

When I moved to LA, I wanted to keep away from that so bad. I don't lie or anything, but I don't do anything sketchy outside of my house. And that means that I see a lot of people in a lot of situations that I could make easier. But I keep myself to myself, because I kinda like my sanity where it is.

So when I leaned back in my chair and stared out the window, and I watched this guy smashing his phone on the cement, I chuckled. I mean, it was kinda funny. But then he took a step back, and leaned against a wall, and he looked like he might've been about to cry. And I'm not good with that. There was something about his face, I don't know what it was, some kind of softness. And he looked like he'd just gone through hell that morning, really: his shirt wasn't tucked in right, his hair was a mess, one of his shoes was untied, that whole thing. So yeah, I went down and talked to him.

Course, what I didn't realize was that he was going to look at me with these hopeless eyes, looking about ready to give up on life. I mean, I'm not gonna tell you I'm necessarily a good person, but you can't just walk away from that. There are a lot of assholes out there, but I just had this feeling that whatever he was going through, he really didn't deserve.

So I offered him some help, and fuck – he just lit up. You know, it's like when a kid thinks you forgot their birthday and then you surprise them with a huge ass teddy bear or something. I don't know even how to describe it, but it was goddamn adorable, that's for sure.

I'd lived in LA for a year or so by then, and let me tell you - you meet a lot of people who seem like they'd only give a fuck about you if you paid them. But I had this feeling that this guy was different. I can't really tell you why; maybe it was something about his eyes, or the fact he was such a wreck. He just seemed genuine, and I wanted to see if I was right.

\--- Smitty's POV ---

By the time I was picking up my bag and heading out of the building I was convinced that morning _probably_ wasn't a dream. But when I walked outside to see him leaning against the wall, taking a drag from a vape, I was sure I'd just fallen asleep again. 

I approached him with a grin. Sorcery aside, I couldn't help being a little proud to be the one walking up to him now; he just looked damn good. “Hey, thanks man. Really.”

He just shook his head, breathing white mist. “New deal, we get you a phone first. Sound good?”

Again, I could only blink. “Dude, I would _really_ appreciate that.”

“Cool. We can walk, it's like, right around the corner.” he replied, and started down the street.

I kept by his side, commenting, “I never got your name,”

“John. Yours?” he asked, bringing his vape back to his lips.

“Lucas, but everyone calls me Smitty,” I answered. “This is honestly really nice of you, I have no idea how to thank you.”

He turned his head, blowing the cloud to the side of us, and replied, “Don't worry about it. Looked like you could use a hand.”

I chuckled, simultaneously both _incredibly_ embarrassed, and also not embarrassed in the slightest. “Kind of an understatement,”

“Life's gotta be spiraling when you're smashing your own phone on the sidewalk.” he remarked.

“That thing was already done for,” I insisted with a smile.

I glanced over at him. “So, sorcery?” I began, and he nodded. “What's that like?” I asked. I'd been curious about it all my life, but now that I could actually ask someone about it, I had no idea what to say.

John shrugged. “Convenient. And inconvenient, people are fucking annoying.”

“Yeah, I believe that,” I sighed.

“Oh yeah, you feeling okay? First port usually sucks,” he inquired, suddenly looking over me like I might be turning green.

I nodded. “Yeah, kinda felt like shit for a couple hours, but it's better than getting fired.” I didn't end up actually throwing up, but I definitely took some precautionary trips to the bathroom.

“Gets easier. I was bedridden for a week after I figured it out. That was _real_ fuckin' messy.” he remembered, eyebrows raised.

“Goddamn,” I chuckled. “Yeah, definitely wasn't that bad.”

“I've only seen one other person react that badly, but he was hanging on by a thread, just as a person.”

Before I had time to question it, he was opening the door of the shop for me. He stood with his hands in his pockets while I sorted out getting a new phone, though once he did have to step in and explain part of the insurance policy. For looking like a slight mess, he actually seemed pretty competent.

“Thanks, man. Honestly, you're doing a hell of a lot for a stranger right now, and I don't even know why,” I murmured, flipping over my new phone in my hands. 

John shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. “Well, I've gotta see you get your phone if I want the first number you add to be mine.”

I was goddamn _speechless_. I tried, I opened my mouth and all I got was a bumbling, “I – well – I mean,”

He saved me pretty quick, though. “If you're cool with that?” he asked, watching me with careful blue eyes. Goddamn they were pretty.

I just nodded, I figured that'd be quicker than trying to making him interpret word-like noises. I handed him the phone, and as he put in his number, I took the spare second to just breathe, and really look at him. He was hot, that was for sure – whether because he'd zapped me to work, or because he was helping me sort my life out, or because he was just hot, I can't be sure. But honestly, I don't think it really matters. He was a nice guy, that's what counted.

“So, another option,” he mused, handing back my phone, “We could get dinner.”

I'm nearly positive that was a heat of a blush – in fact, I _am_ positive, because now John was looking at me with this cute little smile and it was _not_ helping.

“Yeah, for sure,” I replied, fumbling with my fingers and just glad I didn't stutter.

So we started off into the town. We got talking a little bit about growing up – let me tell you, being a kid and a sorcerer is weird as fuck. Your parents know well before you do – typically a kid will start showing signs when they're around two years old – and John's parents had _no_ idea how to handle it. They basically had to raise him off of Google. Apparently, when kids first learn telekinesis, they can pick things up all day long, but putting them down takes relaxation, which kids aren't good at. So when they've got the dog stuck to the ceiling, about all you can do is try and put them to sleep. And pray. Definitely didn't happen to John.

We ended up sitting around a booth eating Panda Express, and suddenly I remembered something.

I swallowed some sweet and sour chicken and leaned a bit over the table. “So, do people around here know you're a sorcerer?” I asked quietly.

He shook his head. “I don't really keep it a secret, but I just don't talk about it. People start expecting things from you and it's just a mess,” he sighed, rolling his eyes.

“What kinds of things?” I inquired. I wasn't even sure what kind of powers a good sorcerer could have – or if he was one.

“Anything, really. The uh,” he raised his hand briefly, searching for a word, “telekinesis comes in handy. Back at my old place, whenever someone had to lift something heavy or get something up high, they'd be at my door.” He leaned back in his chair with a frown. “And _fuck,_ when they figured out the animal thing, the pet problems just never ended,” he groaned.

I blinked. “Animal thing?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I'm not too good at it, but you can get some control over an animal's behaviour. For me it's just simple stuff, you know: sit, stay, fuck off. But some people get really good, and they can get them to do chores and stuff – anything you don't need thumbs for. The real crazy guys can start influencing people, too. It starts verging on some serious mind control, but I doubt they'd publicize everything they can actually do.”

I raised my eyebrows. “That's kinda freaky. I knew about telekinesis, and stuff with temperature, but that's kind of another level.”

He shrugged. “Sorcery is basically just hands-free control of the environment. So anything that exists, you might be able to influence – and that includes neural activity. Just depends what you choose to focus on.” he explained.

I nodded, understanding. “What'd you focus on?” I asked, bringing my glass to my lips.

“Teleportation, mostly,” he answered, “The average sorcerer who isn't specialized in it can usually port from about here to the end of the street,” it was a distance of maybe a hundred yards, “and typically only once or twice a day. I've been working with it since I was like six, so eight a day is kinda my limit, but my best distance was from here to somewhere in Missouri.”

I nearly spat out my drink. “Wait – you got across the _country?_ ” 

“Halfway,” he pointed out. “But I mean, could always just do it twice.”

“Dude, that's _insane._ ” I had to make sure he actually realised that, because he was looking way too nonchalant about this.

“You should see some of really good ones. There's one guy, he got a bunch of people to set up in different parts of the world with cameras and some ingredients, and he ported around the whole damn world getting things and making this meal. He must've ported thirty times totally unfazed. They were saying how the longest distance between two cities on earth is somewhere between Argentina and China, and he did the trip twice just to get a couple pans,”

I felt the blood fall from my face. “The _fuck?_ ” 

“Yeah, he played all the footage at once and you can see him flash from place to place, it's pretty cool.” he continued, and took a sip of Coke.

“Dude, I – are you serious right now?” I had to ask.

He nodded. “Some people, man, they've just got a knack for it. Then there's guys like him.”

“And people can get to that point, like, with _any_ of the skills?” I questioned.

“Don't see why not. Though honestly, if you don't plan on making a living off of it, there's not much point. At some point it's just not necessary,” he reasoned. “I mean, for me, as soon as I can get anywhere in the world and back with no problems, I'll pick something else to focus on.”

“Makes sense... but damn,” I chuckled, hardly able to wrap my head around it. “What would you focus on after that?”

“Probably telekinesis. Then I wouldn't have to drive _or_ stand up.” he answered, and with his deadpan voice, I honestly wasn't sure if he was joking.

“Living the dream,” I replied with a grin.

It was beginning to make sense why sorcerers were always presented badly in media: people were scared of them. They might only have made up about 0.00001% of the population, but when a person can negate security systems anytime they want and pick up a building if they so choose – and apparently fucking control people's _minds_ \- it definitely seems like they've got their reasons. 

I tried not to ask too much about the sorcery; I figured he had to get questions all the time. He seemed really interested in my life, too – it was kinda flattering. So I told him about Canada, and my family – I missed them a lot, but I'd gotten really lucky with this job, and I couldn't pass up the opportunity.

He'd looked at me for a second, and then told me, “Let me know if you ever want to visit, I can get you there.”

I could only stare. “Dude. Are you – really?” Flights were so expensive, I didn't expect to go back until Christmas, ten months at the earliest.

He nodded, eyebrow raised like I was crazy. “Course, yeah. It's two long-distance trips in a row, so you'd have to get used to porting first, but I'm down if you are.”

It seriously threw me for a loop. He was just so laid-back about these seriously massive favors. I made a promise with myself not to take it for granted – I really didn't want to turn into one of his annoying neighbors.

I flapped my arms uselessly. “I don't even know how to thank you. Seriously. I'm broke.”

But he waved me off. “Don't worry about it. It takes like five seconds for me, I might as well.” He frowned. “Seriously, though. If you want to get there without being bedridden for two days, you'll need some practice. So we'd have to see each other kind of a lot.”

“What a tragedy,” I laughed, and he cracked a smile.

“Yeah, meeting up with a cute guy, fuck knows that's the _last_ thing I'd want,” he replied with a smirk, and all I could do was sit there and blush.

For a lot of reasons, he was a first: I was never opposed to the idea, but I'd never found myself tripping up over a guy; I'd definitely never been hit on first; and I'd never been... I guess, looked after, you know? I could seriously get used to it.

It was crazy to think that for once, I was the one being chased. When I told him stories, he leaned forward to listen. When I said something sad, he frowned and asked gentle questions. When I laughed at something he'd said, he'd get this bashful look in his eyes for a moment, and then come back with a sly, cocky smile. It sounds cheesy as shit, but seriously, it just made me feel like I meant something.

\--- John's POV ---

I called an Uber to drive us to his place, and immediately, it was familiar.

I raised my eyebrows. “Huh. I lived there when I first moved to LA, too.” I remarked.

Smitty blinked. “Really? Was the washer pretty shit?”

“Whole place was pretty shit,” I replied honestly, stuffing my hands in my pockets. “Don't think I ever got a good night's sleep.”

Smitty pulled his mouth to the side. “Yeah, not gonna lie, the mattress is pretty much all metal.”

I smirked. “Probably too forward to say mine's a lot nicer.”

_Fuck_ I loved his blush. Totally worth looking like kind of a douche just to see him grin and cover his face and go red at the ears.

“So, you free this weekend?” I asked, and he nodded. “Cool. I'll text you.” I couldn't help smiling, because he was trying to look all chill but was still completely pink. But I figured I'd leave it at that, so we said our goodbyes, and when he got inside, I ported back home.

Let me tell you, it'd been a while. Years. I was still in my early twenties, but it had been ages since something like this kept me up at night. But there I was, flipping over incessantly, holding my pillow every which way, thinking about his smile, his voice, the way his eyes shone when he laughed. I mean, I'd like to think I'm pretty in control over my emotions, but looking back, you'd think I was a teenager all over again, losing my head over someone I'd only known for a day. But no, I was a wreck. I don't know what he did to me. That's not something sorcery can do, that power's unique to Smitty. I was helpless under it, and it might've scared me, if it didn't make me so stupidly, blissfully happy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The week continues.

\--- Smitty's POV ---

My first week working in LA went by _insanely_ fast. Monday, I met John, and as soon as I got back into my house, I just crashed. Then sometime the next day, I texted him asking about Friday, and then we just... kept texting. All week. I don't think an hour went by when I was both awake and not constantly checking my phone for messages.

You know how different people text differently, and it kind of gives you a sense of how long you're probably going to be texting them? John's the kind of texter that you can see yourself talking to for _ever._ He acknowledges everything you say, he asks questions, he can make the simplest things into comedy acts – he's just fun to talk to. 

Throughout the week, we got more and more comfortable talking about personal stuff. I think it's a lot easier to text about than to talk in person. Wednesday night, I made a really off-handed remark about my dad, and moved toward a different topic, but he asked me about it.

Honestly, my dad and I have a decent relationship. There's no bad blood there. But fucking hell, he could've at least _smiled_ when I graduated high school with honors, or got into my first-choice college, or landed the job of my dreams, or _something._ But he's always been impossible to please. For ages, he thought my whole 'infatuation' with design was going to be an annoying phase that would eventually die out so I'd go and be an accountant or something. I don't think he ever believed in me for a second.

That turned out to be about a three-hour long conversation that took John and I pretty far into the night. I remember I was sitting on my bed, my knees folded up to my chest and honestly just not doing too great, when I typed, “Now I just really want some ice cream.”

To which he responded, “What kind?”

I thought for a second, and replied, “Cookie dough. Or chocolate. Or both. Maybe I'll go shopping tomorrow.”

He didn't respond for a couple minutes. I thought maybe he'd fallen asleep. I was at that turning point of sadness when your eyes feel like they'll overflow at any second, and there's a lump in your throat that's becoming kind of hard to breathe around, and all you really want to do is curl up and cry. And even though it'd only been two or three minutes since his last message, I just felt lonely.

My phone lit up. “Mind if I come over?” he asked.

I just about melted. My fingers were quivering, and I tried hastily to blink the glass from my eyes as I replied, “Sure,”

Not even a second passed before there was a knock at my door. Standing up, I rubbed my face furiously, and I couldn't help a shaky grin as I slowly opened the door.

John was standing there, wearing a fuzzy robe over his t-shirt and basketball shorts, holding a grocery bag full of ice cream. He offered me a smile. I let him step into the apartment and immediately put my arms around him. I didn't hear the bag fall, but he suddenly had two hands free, and he hugged me tight.

We sat in my bed, eating ice cream, talking, and eventually we burrowed under the covers to watch Netflix. At about two in the morning, I started getting really tired. I leaned against him slightly – I really wasn't sure how much contact was acceptable. He hadn't tried anything, which I really appreciated, and I didn't want to make it seem like I was inviting something.

He turned his head toward me. “You wanna sleep?” he asked quietly.

I nodded.

“Should I go?”

I shook my head.

“Okay.” I felt the weight of the laptop lift off my lap. He brought his hand up to touch my hair, and I snuggled closer to him. “Night.” he murmured.

“Night,” I mumbled, and drifted off to sleep.

\--- John's POV ---

An alarm was going off. Fucking Africa by Toto.

I opened my eyes. Immediately, I had to smile; Smitty had just about half his body on top of me, leg included. Slowly, he started to stir, and eventually opened his eyes.

“Morning.” I mused, and he cracked a smile. Propping myself up to see his phone, I lifted one hand and brought it over to us, turning off the alarm. I'm really, _really_ not a morning person, but I figured it'd be kind of a dick move to just go back to sleep, even though he was slowly latching onto me around the waist and about the last thing I wanted to do was get up.

I put my hand on the back of his head, lightly massaging with slow circles. “C'mon. We gotta get up.” I murmured.

With a groan, his arm tightened around me. I grinned, and held him close to me for a second. He was warm. And cute. And sleepy. _Fuck_ I didn't want to be responsible.

“You got work,” I reminded him. He turned his face into me. “Want me to move us?” I asked.

I felt him give a heavy exhale. “Okay.” he muttered.

Using telekinesis on yourself isn't trivial. Using telekinesis on multiple objects also isn't trivial. So I was really praying here. Thankfully, I could manage lifting us out of bed and over the ground. Turning us so we'd be standing was kind of a bitch, and it took me a couple seconds to figure it out, but I got it eventually. I set us down slowly so Smitty would know to start supporting himself.

Smitty had to let go of me when we touched the ground, but he stayed close, resting his head against my shoulder.

“That was pretty cool,” he murmured.

I nodded. “0G basically,” I replied, and brought my hands up to his shoulders. “Work, yeah?” I pressed, trying to be gentle about it.

He nodded, and with a deep breath, turned away and started toward the kitchen. 

Smitty insisted on making me something to eat, so he made a couple omelettes – definitely the best breakfast I'd had in... possibly years – and he started getting ready for work. I just hung around chatting with him, until eventually he had to leave. I hugged him at the door, and I was seriously fighting the instinct to kiss him. He cast me a smile over his shoulder as he closed it, and after a second of just standing there grinning like an idiot, I ported back home.

I'm gonna be real with you. I've dated around, right: a couple girlfriends, a couple boyfriends, and I had different dynamics with all of them – I mean, a few of them were more fuck-buddies than anything, we just pretended to also be dating. But Smitty... He was something new. I've never gotten _that_ close to someone, _that_ fast. I mean, a couple of my exes had some problems they wanted to talk about, but that wasn't until at _least_ a month or two in.

Sure, I flirted my ass off around Smitty, but we weren't dating. I don't know what I would've called us. But less than, what, a hundred hours in, and already I was waking up in his bed, wishing to whatever god there is I could just hold him for another eternity. It was dizzying. I mean, I loved it; it was that kind of crazy, teenage, Romeo-and-Juliet kind of story, where you meet someone and suddenly everything's fucking _amazing,_ you feel like somehow you're where you're supposed to be, and you can do anything, and nothing matters but this person. And then you go back home and your bed feels cold, and everything's quiet, and you wonder how in the fuck you lived like this and thought you were happy.

Let me just say real quick, I wasn't a romantic guy. I didn't feel the need to have someone around, I never had the lifelong dream of getting married, none of that. I lived my life being totally satisfied just by myself.

Yeah, so that didn't last.

\--- Smitty's POV ---

We arranged to meet up on Friday night at my place to practice porting. The whole week had flown by, but Friday was really dragging – probably because I'd forgotten to charge my phone the night before, so it died just about as soon as I got in the building, and I couldn't text John. That, and I was giddy as a fucking schoolgirl all day, constantly checking the time and bouncing my knee, primed and ready to jump up at the tick of 5 o'clock. And you can bet I did.

I all but sprinted to the bus stop, every second feeling like separate eternity, until eventually I shut the front door behind me and reached for my phone.

_I'm free whenever,_ I texted him, not even taking off my jacket yet. There was a quiet hum, and I looked up to see John standing in the living room, phone in hand, grinning at me.

“Looks like I've got a damn intruder,” I gasped, smiling.

“Ah shit, so rude,” he seemed to remember, and immediately phased out of the room. There was a knock at the door.

I opened it. He was still wearing that stupid grin and it was the prettiest thing I'd seen all day. “You've gotta be kidding me,” I laughed.

“Permission to enter, my lord?” he asked with a deep, dramatic bow.

“Get the fuck in here,” I chuckled, dragging him in by the arm.

He closed the door behind him and pulled me a step forward, and suddenly we were really, _really_ close. His eyes were so blue, his lips only an inch or two from mine. I could feel heat rushing to my face. I felt frozen in place, lost in his gaze. Still, he smiled. He brought his hands up to rest just beneath my ears, and kissed my forehead.

He stepped aside and brushed his hand down my arm to take my hand, leading me to the center of the room as he asked, “You eat yet?”

I shook my head, feeling more like a doll than anything. Like, god _damn_ this guy was smooth. I didn't stand a fucking chance.

He nodded. “That's good. Just in case. You wanna get started now?” he asked.

I cleared my throat, trying to pull myself back into reality. “Yeah. For sure.”

“Cool. So we'll just go to the kitchen to start. Ready?” he asked, watching me carefully, keeping hold of my hand.

I nodded, closing my eyes. There was a sort of fuzzy feeling that spread in a flash throughout my body, and I opened my eyes, and he was still there, now standing in front of the stove.

“Feeling okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I answered with another nod. “Feels kinda weird, but that's all,”

“Cool. Let's try going outside next.” He waited for me to take a deep breath, and I kept my eyes open this time. I kept my gaze steady on his face as everything blurred into a white screen, and then shapes began to remerge, a blunt pressure starting to bare down at the sides of my head. We were standing behind the apartment complex.

“How about now?” he murmured.

I pulled my mouth to the side. “Kind of a headache,” I answered honestly.

He nodded. “Alright. Let's stop there.” he replied, still keeping my hand in his as we started back to my apartment.

“That's weird though, we went a lot farther the first time,” I pondered.

“Number of ports and distance covered are two different skills,” he explained. “But it's good to get used to porting multiple times before you get used to distance, because then you know you can get back.”

“Makes sense.” I glanced at him. “You ever get stranded?”

He grinned. “Yeah, when I was like ten, Christmas Eve. I broke my mom's favorite ornament, and I heard her coming back into the room, so I ported to my classroom.”

I blinked. “Wait, like, at school?”

He nodded. “Yup. It was the farthest I'd ever gone by like a mile, I felt like _shit_. And the whole place was shut down for Winter break, so I was locked in there all night, 'til I could port back.”

I felt myself go pale. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. My mom reported me missing but the police didn't even know how to _start_ looking for a sorcerer. Everyone was freaking out, I got my ass beat when I got home. Kind of a weird Christmas,” he reminisced.

I couldn't help a chuckle. “Dude, that's insane,”

“Yeah, I was a weird kid,” he replied with a shrug, and let go of my hand so I could unlock the door.

I was planning on cooking something for dinner that night, but the headache really wasn't helping, so we ordered take-out. We sat on the couch, eating pizza and talking until the sky was black behind the windows.

We were both had one arm pushed over the back of the couch, facing each other while we talked about something or rather, might've been video games or California or whatever. But all the while, I was acutely aware of how we were both slowly, gradually falling toward each other. Within the maybe four hours we were talking, we'd crept closer and closer, whether we were aware of it or not, and now my legs were folded on his thigh, he had one hand on my shoulder, making light circles with his fingertips over the top of my back.

I didn't have the headspace to question it; my mind had been melting since I came home, and by now, all I could think of was how damn hot he was, how close he was to me, how I could feel his warmth just within my reach, how I could lean forward the slightest bit and be kissing him – and then so much more.

\--- John's POV ---

I was holding back. To the point where it almost hurt.

His eyes hadn't left me for a moment, big and brown and so fucking cute. His hand had slowly shifted down his leg until he touched my side, fiddling with my shirt. We were keeping up some pretense of conversation but seriously all I wanted to do was take his face in my hands and end the charade, just make it very clear how much I wanted him, and how much he meant to me.

But I didn't.

Somewhere near ten or eleven, Smitty gave a long yawn. I smiled and kissed his forehead; I felt like that was a decent middle ground.

“You should get some sleep,” I murmured.

He let out a heavy breath, rubbing his eyes. “Yeah, I guess.” Then he looked back up at me, and these were straight up puppy-dog eyes as he asked, “Do you want to stay the night?”

I had to bite my lip and think. Honestly, it probably wasn't a good idea. I knew me, and I seriously doubted I'd be able to keep myself from doing something stupid while he was laying in bed beside me.

“I could, but I should probably take the couch,” I reasoned.

He pulled his mouth to the side, making a weak fist around my shirt for a moment. “Okay.” he murmured.

So fifteen minutes later, I laid on his couch, wrapped in my own comforter, kind of kicking the shit out of myself for not at least kissing him. But I'd made a promise to myself. Smitty was sweet, and he got me; we had this chemistry I just can't explain. I didn't want to lose him, but I also didn't want to dive into something before I'd known the guy even a week. I wanted this to last, so I wanted to do it right.

But that didn't make it any easier to fall asleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are all so kind!! I have fangirled over every single one of your comments and kudos!! 
> 
> I hope you're alright with seeing some legitimate plot next chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life working in LA is beginning to take its toll on Smitty.

\--- Smitty's POV ---

I'm not really good at sleeping in. So I woke up at eight on the dime, just when I'd get up for work. I came out to the kitchen to see John curled up on the sofa, most of his comforter in a heap on the ground. I walked over and spread it back over him, and he started to stir. I nearly squeaked when I felt his hand on the back of my thigh.

“Uh, morning,” I greeted him with a nervous giggle.

A sleepy smile crossed his lips, eyes still closed, face tranquil. “Morning.” he murmured.

“You want something for breakfast?” I asked quietly.

“Mm.” was all I got back.

“Is... that a yes?” I chuckled.

“Mm-mm.” It would have been helpful if there had been any kind of change of pitch, but apparently that was beyond him. I assumed he'd be asleep in another thirty seconds anyway.

His arm fell loose around my knees, though quickly turned into a vice grip when I tried to step away.

I laughed. “I can't go now?”

“Mm.” That one sounded pretty affirmative.

I lowered myself steadily to the floor, sitting in front of him, moving his arm back to the couch. I brushed a few strands of hair from his cheek, and he turned slowly to face me, the blue of his eyes beginning to shine though his lashes. He drew his hand heavily up to touch my hair, the back of his fingers tracing my ear.

For a moment, the world seemed to slow, and there was just this. Just the gentle smile on his lips, and the soft sunlight that breathed in the windows, glowing on his skin and shimmering in his eyes. My fingertips were feather-light on his temple, down the curve of his jaw, to hold his chin as I brought myself close to touch a kiss to his cheek.

When I pulled away, his eyes had fallen closed, arm slack by his side, his breathing slowed to the steady beat of sleep. With a smile, I stood up and started toward the kitchen.

\--- John's POV ---

I didn't wake up the next day until some time in the afternoon. As I was hauling myself up from the sofa, I found Smitty sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop, taking off his headphones.

“You're alive,” he noted with a grin.

I nodded. “Just barely.” I took a seat in front of him, and he closed his laptop. “When did you get up?” I asked.

He frowned. “Nine. You don't remember?” he inquired. 

I gave a groggy, confused blink. “Did I wake up?”

He nodded, smile fading back in. “Yeah, for a little bit.” But his voice trailed off, and his eyes fell away from me, with that pink tint dusting over his cheeks, and I was pretty damn worried about what I might've done – but I didn't know how to ask, so I just took a seat. 

Smitty was just about to speak when suddenly, his phone started vibrating and playing the stupid Mii channel music in really low quality, and he immediately picked it up, looking flushed as hell but also half laughing at himself. I couldn't help my grin.

He cleared his throat before giving a professional-sounding, “Hello?” His smile dropped pretty fast. It was just 'okay's and 'sure's from there, until he was hanging up. He heaved a sigh, putting his phone back down.

“Everything okay?” I asked, more than a little worried. He looked pretty resigned.

He nodded. “Yeah, that was work. There's this thing they were having me do for Friday, but apparently now they want it Monday morning. So that's my weekend gone.”

I frowned. “What the hell,” I muttered.

He shrugged. “Yeah. I should probably... get going on it, really.” he sighed, looking at the clock.

I nodded. “Yeah. Sounds good.” I agreed, standing up. I walked over to the couch to wind up my comforter. Smitty followed me over, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, his gaze glued to to the wall. I watched him for a second. He looked completely lost in his own world.

I stepped toward him. “Hey,” I murmured, and he seemed to come out of it enough to accept a hug. I held him close. I wasn't planning to stay there too long, but I felt him rest his head on my shoulder, and it would've been like pushing away a puppy to step back now.

“You're gonna be okay, you've got this.” I assured him, and he gave a small nod. His arms were tight around me for a long moment, and then he pulled himself back. He heaved a long breath, and I kept my hands on his shoulders to tell him, “You're gonna be the best decision they ever made.”

A smile crept back over his lips. “Hope so.” God, I hated seeing that look in his eyes. I wanted to do something to help him, something to make him smile for real, but I was coming up dry. All I could do was get out of the way and let him take care of things, but it left me feeling completely useless. I kissed his forehead and I was off.

I wouldn't hear from him all weekend, until after work Monday. All week, he was pretty scarce, only texting me a couple times a day when it used to be pretty much constant. I didn't want to push him into getting together over the weekend, so I didn't mention it. Friday afternoon, he told me he wouldn't be able to, and we left it at that.

On Thursday the following week, he texted me in the middle of the night.

I'd just been scrolling Twitter when I got the message.

_Hey, you up?_

Immediately, I texted back. I was worried about him, really. He hadn't seemed himself since the last time we were together, and he'd never texted me this late. _Yeah, what's up?_

_Just finished this thing for tomorrow and can't sleep. What are you up to?_

_Nothing, just chilling. I don't wanna press, but you okay?_

There was a kind of pause before he responded. The typing dots appeared and disappeared two or three times, and it was starting to mess with my head before I finally got a message.

_Mind if I get kinda soft for a second?_

I responded immediately. _Course, for as long as you want._ Whoever the fuck made him think otherwise needed a punch to the throat.

_Honestly, the last two weeks have been kind of driving me crazy. I've slept maybe four hours tops per night, not at all last night; either I'm working or I just can't. My hands are shaking and I don't think I've had a full minute to myself since you were last over. I don't know if I can do this._

There's not a lot that can get me choked up, but hearing the most precious person in my life say that was more than enough. _Holy shit, man. Mind if I come by? I need to give you a hug._

This response was by far the quickest. _Yeah, that'd be nice._

Immediately I was at his apartment. He was sitting at his kitchen table, fully dressed, his laptop closed in front of him, as if he'd only just come home and immediately continued working, except it was 3 am. He was looking up at me with red, glassy eyes and a shaky smile.

Fuck, no. It broke me.

I approached him, shaking my head. I held out a hand to him. He took it, and I wrapped my arms tight around him. He was damn near falling into me.

We stayed there for a slow, sad eternity. Eventually, though, I knew I had to get him to bed.

“C'mon. Sleep.” I whispered, and he nodded into my shoulder. He lifted himself from me, letting me guide him to his bedroom, and lay him on his bed. I leaned over him, taking off his shoes, then his jeans. Already, he was half-asleep. I pulled his covers over him, and turned off the lights.

I padded quietly back to the bed, sitting on the bed beside him, running my fingers through his hair until his breath began to slow. I was about to stand up to leave when his hand found mine, giving a weak pull.

“Want me to sleep here?” I murmured, and he gave a tiny nod. I smiled. “Okay.”

He began to shift over, and I slipped under the covers with him. He turned to rest his head on my chest. His body felt a little too warm, so I kept my hand leafing gently through his hair, until his shoulders fell slack, and his head settled heavily against me, and I slipped readily into sleep.

In the morning, Smitty was rushed to leave, so I saw him off without fuss, though I was honestly still really worried for him. I was just glad he got some sleep. After he left, though, I couldn't help myself, and I took a look in his fridge. Just like I thought, nearly everything was going bad. I was really starting to wonder what he'd been eating recently.

Smitty sent me one text that day, a really sweet thank-you for getting him to bed. I replied pretty quick, but it wasn't marked as read until that evening. Not that I'm petty enough to track that kind of thing, but it really wasn't reassuring for his state of mind.

\--- Smitty's POV ---

Work was... just shitty. I guess after the training days, they thought it'd be super funny to just load up the new guy with all the projects no one else wanted to do. None of them even mattered, either: the business was fucking massive, and these were for tiny little nothing companies. Not even a chance for exposure. But if I didn't get every single one done, it'd be all the reason to drop me.

As an employee, I was incredibly, _painfully_ disposable, and they made sure I knew it. In fact, they were probably looking for a reason to ditch me, since my visa was probably costing them. As a result, my supervisor was always looking over my shoulder, asking me how things were going while I was on breaks, shifting deadlines on me so eventually I learned to get things done in half the assigned time, just _in case_ he decided to be a dick about it.

And the other employees weren't any better, either; the whole place was just infested with assholes. By the time I'd been in the country a month, the only reason I had any friends whatsoever was because there happened to be a nice chef working in the cafeteria, and because I happened to smash my phone on the sidewalk outside John's apartment. And honestly, if I hadn't had John, I probably would have actually gone insane.

Friday evening, I dragged myself home by the bus, and slumped into one of my little folding dining chairs, just thinking, for ages. Until eventually, I dug my phone out of my pocket.

John hadn't texted me first in weeks, but he always got back to me. I figured he didn't want to stress me out. Just thinking about it made my heart flutter and sink, my fingers itching with the instinct to call him over here and just kiss him like I'd wanted to for weeks. He was always looking out for me. I just had no idea how to repay him.

Well, I did half of it. _Hey, are you free?_

He responded immediately, like he always does. Goddamn this guy. People aren't supposed to be this nice. Or considerate. Or selfless. Just, fuck him. ...Wait, not - like, that! - _Yeah, what's up?_

_Kinda need to talk about something, wanna come over?_

He materialized in front of me in a flash, phone still in hand.

“Sure.” he responded, offering me a small smile that melted the tension from my face. He took a seat. “Everything okay?” he asked me with a frown, leaning toward me.

I took a deep breath. It was hard for me to just say what's on my mind sometimes. But if there was anyone I knew talk to about this kind of thing, it was John. “Honestly, no. I don't... I really don't think I can do this. It's just,” I shook my head, “They don't give a shit about you. I mean at this point, they're just seeing how much they can get away with before I break.”

John reached forward to take my hand, silent, but eyes wide with concern.

I continued. “They're just dicks, all of them. You'd think, they brought me over to the U.S., they should give a shit about making sure I stay, but they just don't.”

John gave a slow nod. “Are you thinking about leaving?” he inquired.

I sighed, giving a heavy shrug. “I dunno. This place could be such a good opportunity if I can just make it work. But I mean, holy fuck, how long do they plan on treating me like a piece of shit?”

“Think it'd be worth talking to someone about it? HR or your supervisor or something?” he suggested.

I pulled his mouth to the side, fixing my gaze on his hand around mine. “If they paid any attention at all, it'd probably just motivate them more to try and get rid of me.”

“Hey, listen,” John muttered, and I looked up at him. “You shouldn't take this shit without even putting up a fight. Just because it's a big company doesn't mean you've gotta lay down and be their bitch. You deserve better than that.” he told me, voice low and eyes steady. “No job is worth your health, physical or mental. Yeah?”

I nodded slowly. “Okay.” I answered quietly. “I mean, it's a real possibility I'll lose it if I speak up.” I asked. 

“Maybe see if you can get another job lined up just in case. Would you want to stay in the country or go back home?” he asked.

I kept my eyes trained on him, thinking. If I went back to Canada, the whole thing would kind of feel like a waste of time. It'd probably feel like a bigger disappointment than it was. But at the same time, there were a lot of benefits to living in Canada – having family close was one thing. And John... Well, I figured I didn't have anything to worry about when it came to seeing John again. Probably wouldn't even feel the distance.

I shook my head. “I dunno. I guess I...” Holding the back of my neck, I glanced around the apartment. “I've got a contract on this place for a year. It'd be expensive as hell trying to break it.” I considered.

He nodded, and we sat there in silence for another second. I was staring off at the couch behind John, wondering what I was doing, if this was all worth it, if I was really prepared for the working world. I mean, for just starting out, what if this was as good as it got?

“Hey.” John's voice broke through my thoughts. I blinked, finding him watching me worriedly.

“Yeah, sorry,” I sighed. “Just thinking.”

“You're gonna be okay, man. Worse case scenario, you can always go back to the way things were before you moved, right?” he inquired.

I thought about it. I guess, technically, I could just call my parents and say it didn't work out. It's not like they'd disown me or something. I nodded. “Yeah, guess so.”

“That's good.” He glanced at the clock. “You hungry?” he inquired.

I smiled. “Starving.”

We got Taco Bell delivered, and ate in my bed while we watched something on Netflix. I must've dozed off, because at some point I opened my eyes to see John coming out of the bathroom.

I rubbed my eyes. He'd already put my laptop back on the charger, and all the garbage was gone. He stood in front of the bed, hands in his pockets.

“You doing alright?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, better.” I answered sleepily. It was true; I hadn't eaten that much in weeks, or really had a chance to wind down. I was just glad it seemed like I was finally going to get the weekend off – I had every project due from Friday to Wednesday next week already finished.

“Alright, good.” he murmured, watching my knees.

There was silence for a second, before I bit my lip and asked quietly, “Do you... wanna crash here?”

I don't know why I was feeling nervous about it. It's not like it didn't happen just last night. I guess I had the headspace to worry about stuff now – worry what this thing was between John and me, what we wanted out of it, what he was thinking, all that. It was confusing. We'd been stuck in this little dance for a month or something now, and in its own little way, it was fun. But sometimes, I just wanted it to be over with. I can't lie, I definitely liked the suspense, but some days I just wanted to kiss him and hold his hand and call him my boyfriend already. But I didn't say anything, because I knew he wanted to do this right. But I also had no idea what that meant.

Regardless, he smiled and replied, “Sure,” and within minutes, the lights were off, and I was falling back to sleep in his arms. And suddenly, things didn't seem so complicated. We were just two people who liked each other's company. And if that meant hearing crazy stories and getting teleported everywhere and never really knowing what's going on, then fuck it, I guess that's what I signed up for. He was there for me, every single time. And that's what mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Quick poll! Smut: yea or nay?**


	4. Thursday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not crazy new or anything, but have y'all seen this fanart? I love this, I feel like it's just the greatest portrayal of John.
> 
> http://lafiska.tumblr.com/post/172836467363/maybe-i-have-a-little-problem-with-love-for-kryoz

\----- Smitty's POV -----

I thought about John's advice a lot, about making some kind of complaint. For a few days, I figured there'd be no point. Since I started working, I'd looked at all the shitty aspects of the job as just things I'd have to deal with. Like it just came with the territory. But now John had suggested I might have an out, I was looking at everything differently, and I started to wonder. Every time I sat down at my desk, and saw my supervisor eying me from across the office; every time I sent in a draft and got chewed out for some tiny mistake or misinterpretation; every time I got an email from a co-worker who suddenly didn't feel like doing their part of the project; every time my phone started buzzing, and I'd have to take a moment to gather my patience before I picked it up – I'd wonder, why the fuck am I letting this happen?

Then, there was Thursday. And that was something else.

It was 4:57 pm. I nearly had my hand on the door when I got called back into my supervisor's office, and he loaded me up with another assignment. It was a pretty substantial one, a lot bigger than anything else I'd been doing. They were going to give me a week to do it, and it just wasn't enough. I was able to talk him into giving me ten days, but I had to seriously fight for it. And even then, he said he'd dock my pay if I took the extra time. Seriously, just an asshole.

I got home that day and immediately started working on it. Two hours later, I get an email from a coworker, who was apparently sick – like fuck he was sick, he was an alcoholic and everyone knew it – and wouldn't be helping out. So for reference, just my part alone, I would've liked to have two weeks for. My part _plus_ this guy's part, I'd want three, at the least. I had ten days – seven if I wanted to eat dinner every night.

I made it to day four. I'd attempted sleeping once, I'd eaten maybe two meals, and my vision had been blurry for the last five hours. But I didn't really wake up and see the light until Tuesday night, when I got a text from John.

_You doing alright?_

I stared at that text for a solid minute. I hadn't texted him in over a week. Every time he crossed my mind, I had to shake it off and get back to work. I think that's when I realized, this just shouldn't be happening. I mean sure, I destroyed my wellbeing in every sense of the word and got jack shit in return. Sure, I hated it, but that much I could deal with. But... I was forced to push away the people who are most important to me. John had been there for me since the very start and I hadn't seen him in weeks. I couldn't remember the last time I'd even spoken to my parents.

That's not what work is supposed to do. I was new to this whole thing, but I knew that much for sure. I just couldn't believe I'd let this happen. 

I texted him back, damn near on the break of meltdown. _Not really. I think I'll talk to HR in the morning._

_Thank fuck. Let me know how it goes._

And then I spent the rest of the night working.

At some point after the sun came up, I must have dozed off. When I opened my eyes, immediately I felt the color drain from my face. There wasn't an alarm. I nearly smashed the screen of my phone reaching for it. The damn thing was _off_. I didn't even remember doing it. 

Immediately I threw myself off the bed, knocking my chair to the ground, stuffed my laptop in my bag and sprinted out. I was still wearing everything from yesterday, I hadn't even taken off my shoes. I was already hearing my supervisor shouting in my ear. I felt like every second, my paycheck was shrinking, because he's enough of an asshole to calculate exactly how many _seconds_ it was until I was sitting at my desk. And if I lost any more money, I would be fucked for rent next month.

The building was in my sight, maybe half a mile down the road, and I was running blind at it, not giving a single fuck to where my feet were landing – which was a _really_ bad idea. I tripped over the curb, twisted my ankle and landed on it, _hard._ I bit my cheek until I tasted blood to keep from screaming.

An elderly woman approached me. “Are you okay, honey? That looked real bad,”

I nodded, stumbling to stand, but putting weight on it hurt like an absolute _bitch._ “Yeah,” I muttered. It's hard as hell to say that when all you can think is _fucking ow._

“You need to sit down, honey. Maybe in one of these stores,” she murmured, looking around.

I shook my head. In my head, I was watching my paycheck shrivel into nothing. “No, I have to go. Thank you,”

“You'll make it worse!” she warned me, but I waved her off.

“It's okay, thank you,” I repeated, and hobbled down the street as briskly as I could possibly manage without passing out from the pain.

I felt my phone in my pocket. ...I could call John. I could ask him to port me the rest of the way. He probably would. He'd never once said he couldn't do something for me. But there was something gnawing at my gut. I kept thinking of his old neighbors, and how annoyed he was talking about them, of how I'd never done anything like that for him _him_ \- of how I hadn't even really talked to him in a week. I couldn't do that.

So I hobbled, until finally I got into the building, my face red and tears burning in my eyes.

And the fuckers _laughed. ___

__Sitting in my dingy, basically cardboard chair, I was hurting way too much to get work done. At some point, I all but threw my mouse across the desk and leaned back with a growl. I didn't want to move. But I was _mad._ And so I figured, what better way to get a point across than when I'm in pain and furious as all fuck? So I ditched my office and limped over to HR, and let 'em have it. Because I mean, I'd like to think I'm a decently nice guy, but when I've just walked half a mile on a seriously sprained ankle just to get ridiculed and robbed for it, I'm done trying to be nice._ _

__So, I don't know what those HR people are really like when it comes to handling complaints, but I've found that they really, _really_ don't know how to handle someone putting serious pressure on them. I have a feeling no one's ever complained because employees are too disposable. But at the time, I wasn't worried about getting fired, I was there to rant. And the woman – honestly I feel bad for her, I was _not_ kind about this – stared at me with wide eyes as I was shouting and waving my hands around until finally I ran out of words, and I all but collapsed into one of the chairs._ _

__Long story short, they called in my supervisor to talk about the assignment I was on – and about the whole environment of the place, and how I was getting completely overworked, everything. I made sure they didn't miss out a single detail. And I think that woman was pretty scared of my supervisor, too, but at the time, I probably looked a hell of a lot scarier. I mean, I was a man with nothing to lose. We were in there for _hours_ until finally, my supervisor gave up trying to excuse his 'competitive' atmosphere as 'motivational'. It was agreed I wouldn't get docked for missing that morning, and I got a hefty extension on the assignment I was currently on, which was honestly more than I was expecting._ _

__When my supervisor left, I heaved a sigh and apologized to the lady for being such a dick, and immediately she seemed to relax a little. We got talking, and she ended up helping me over to the infirmary to get my ankle bandaged. She was either a legitimately kind person, or she just really didn't want me making a complaint about _her.__ _

__Anyway, I ended up going home that day slightly drowsy from painkillers and feeling a hell of a lot better about things. Immediately, I wanted to talk to John._ _

___Hey, you busy?_ I texted him._ _

__As always, he got back to me within the minute. _Nope. What's up?__ _

___Talked to HR today, I'm getting an extension on my assignment so I've got today free,_ I replied. I wasn't sure entirely how he'd take that, but I hit send before I could overthink it._ _

___Niiiice. Good to hear. If you want to do anything I'm down,__ _

__I was feeling kind of out of it, but I was already getting super giddy about getting to see him again. It'd been ages. Maybe it didn't really make sense to miss someone I'd only known for a couple months, but I didn't give a _fuck.__ _

___For sure. Dunno what though.__ _

___Dinner?__ _

__I grinned. _Sure._ I looked up just in time to see him phase into existence in front of me._ _

__He turned to see me in the kitchen. There was a silent moment. We both just kind of stared at each other. And then, like dumbasses, we both slowly broke into a smile._ _

__“Hey,” he greeted me, with a low, casual voice that didn't match the shine in his eyes._ _

__I was about to give a stiffled 'hey' right back when I thought... fuck no. I took a few long strides toward him (ow) and the second I outstretched my arms, he pulled me into a hug, holding me so tight I had to fight to breathe, and I wouldn't have wanted it any other way._ _

__We stayed there for a little while. I felt the tension sink from his shoulders, feeling one of his arms falling around my waist, and a warm hand gently carding through my hair. I might have been falling into him, my head resting on his shoulder, feeling the soft rhythm of heartbeat on my chest. Finally, after all this, I was safe, and treasured. As if heaven could ever compete._ _

__I didn't realize I'd started to literally fall asleep until John gave a quiet, “Sit down,” and I mindlessly obeyed. I didn't even notice he'd ported us to the couch, my head was already fuzzy enough. Feeling his lap beneath me, I didn't think twice, I just turned into his chest, quickly sinking back into sleep while he held me to him like a child._ _

__When I woke up, it was dark out, and I was staring at a wall I'd never woken up to before, John's phone open to my left. I blinked. For a second, my mind was blank. I couldn't remember a damn thing. Slowly, I started to remember – John came over, and I just... passed out. I felt a content smile settling on my lips, and turned my face into John's shirt for a moment._ _

__I heard John put his phone down. “You awake?” he whispered, and I gave a small nod. I felt him kiss the top of my head, and I buried my face more, already feeling myself blush._ _

__“Want something to eat?” he asked gently._ _

__I hadn't even realized how hungry I was until he asked. My stomach was on _fire._ When was the last time I ate? I couldn't remember. I nodded._ _

__“'Kay, wanna order something or go out?” he asked._ _

__“Order,” I mumbled, but I guess it was too muffled to hear._ _

__“Huh?”_ _

__I detached myself from his chest a bit. “Order,” I answered, and looked up at him._ _

__God, he was so close. His eyes were... just beautiful, like crisp, shipwrecked galaxies, glowing in the lamplight. He brought his hand slowly up, and brushed his fingertips lightly behind my ear, soft and warm. I could lean forward just the slightest bit, and take his lips. But I wouldn't dare move. I wouldn't risk it._ _

__He smiled. “Sounds good.”_ _

__It didn't take long before we were sitting there on my couch eating Chipotle, talking about life. Then suddenly, I remembered something incredibly trivial I'd never asked._ _

__“By the way – do you have siblings?” I inquired, taking a bite._ _

__John shook his head. “Nope. Pretty sure raising a sorcerer equates to like five kids,”_ _

__I grinned. “Yeah, that makes sense. Ever wish you had siblings?”_ _

__He nodded. “When I was little, all the time. Really wanted a big brother. Lots of things you don't want to go to your parents for.” he answered._ _

__“Yeah. I've got an older sister, she was good for those things.” I replied, reminiscing. She was a few years older, so we were never too close, but she was there to get me through all those first-text drafts and to tell me it didn't matter whether I had a date to prom._ _

__“That's cool. Honestly I think I wanted to know a sorcerer, not so much a brother. My parents were alright but there were a lot of things they couldn't help with,” he remembered with a frown._ _

__“Like what?” I asked, praying I didn't press too much – though honestly, John had never given me a reason to worry. He was always so open; I guess he was just comfortable with who he was and didn't care if everyone else knew._ _

__He shrugged, staring into his bowl. “Things like... should I tell friends at school, or what happens if I accidentally hurt someone, or... how a kid should be disciplined for messing up like that.” he muttered._ _

__I was quiet for a second, trying to piece together how to ask, “Did that happen?”_ _

__He nodded, looking back up and stretching one arm over the back of the sofa to face me. “Kind of a long story. So in my first school, my parents told everyone I was a sorcerer so, like, go easy on me if I fuck up. But we moved when I was in fourth grade, and they didn't tell the new school. Forgot or something, I dunno, they're really flighty people._ _

__“Anyway, I was in the library, trying to get a book off the top shelf, and I wasn't tall enough, so I figured I'd just telekinesis it out. But I fucked up and ended up toppling over the whole bookshelf, and it fell on a kid. I didn't even think to tell the teacher I was a sorcerer and it was an accident, he just immediately assumed I did it on purpose, and he sent me to the principal's office. Thing is, though, the kid it fell on was the principal's son. He was fuckin' _pissed_. So for two months, middle of summer while everyone else was having lunch and recess, I was scrubbing desks out in the courtyard.”_ _

__I raised my eyebrows. “Are you serious?” I demanded, something between shocked and furious._ _

__He nodded. “Yeah. My parents only realized something was up when I kept coming home with really bad sunburns. They were about to wage war with the guy. But he didn't want anything to go public, so he eased up pretty fast.”_ _

__“That's fucking ridiculous,” I spat._ _

__He shrugged. “Yeah, but I dunno. Stuff like that kind of taught me how to get through things on my own. I mean I'm glad my parents stepped in, but I knew I'd live either way.” He shook his head. “But that's just me.”_ _

__I nodded, a bitter taste still on my tongue. “I guess it makes sense. But stand up for yourself more now, though, right?” I asked._ _

__“For sure, I learned that pretty quick. Especially after high school, holy shit,” he sighed, and I looked at him curiously. He continued, “I was a dumbass, tried to be a show off and get popular and it backfired. I ended up just a show monkey, with these big jackasses bossing me around. I went along with it for a while, since it seemed like everyone liked me. But eventually I got sick of it. I guess I realized that's all I really was to them – we never talked or hung out or anything; I just entertained them._ _

__“When I started shrugging them off, they were furious. They were trying to fuck me over any way they could – even tried to get me expelled for using sorcery at school, which wasn't even a rule. When the principal called me in with the other guys, I just said straight up: I won't use sorcery at school if it freaks people out, but if they pull anything on me I'm gonna defend myself. And unless someone can prove I'm actually out to hurt someone, I don't want to hear anything else about it.” He shrugged. “There wasn't a lot to be said after that.”_ _

__I nodded, honestly kind of impressed. When I was in high school, there was no way in hell I'd have the guts to just 'shrug off' some jocks or pull a line like that with the principal. I wasn't, you know, hiding in the bathroom during lunch or stumbling over my words when I had to read something out loud, but still, John was on a different level._ _

__I leaned back. “Damn. That's some confidence.”_ _

__John frowned. “I dunno if it's really that. I think I was just so fed up I didn't give a fuck what they had to say anymore. You know, I don't...” he thought for a second, and shrugged, “It's not like I walk around thinking I can do anything. It's more just, I don't care if I fuck up.”_ _

__I nodded slowly, smiling. “Yeah. I like that.”_ _

__I just watched him for a second. He had this aura, or something, I dunno. It seemed like when he was there, nothing could go wrong. Or maybe, things could go wrong, but there was always gonna be a way of getting through. It wasn't like he always had the answer, and he wouldn't pretend that was the case – but maybe he just had a good perspective on things. He seemed to know what was worth worrying about and what wasn't, and the importance of just taking a step back and enjoying yourself. It was... refreshing, I guess. Relaxing. And it made him just _ridiculously_ nice to be around. And it was kind of... addictive._ _

__John tapped my knee, snapping me back to reality. “What happened with your foot?” he asked, frowning with concern._ _

__I chuckled at myself. “Fell on my way to work,” I replied._ _

__He rolled his eyes, grinning. “Nice. How long will it be wrapped up?”_ _

__“Three or four weeks,” I answered, looking down at it with a huff._ _

__He blinked. “Damn, you must've gotten it pretty good.”_ _

__I bit my cheek. “I mean, the fall wasn't bad. But I kinda had to get to work, so...”_ _

__His face dropped. “Smitty. Did you _walk_ on it?”_ _

__I could feel myself visibly shriveling. “...Maybe?” I squeaked._ _

__“'Kay, how far?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow._ _

__“I dunno, just from the Walmart,” I answered truthfully, my voice about an octave too high._ _

__“Dude, that's like half a mile! The fuck were you thinking!” he cried, pushing my shoulder._ _

__“I mean it's not like I could afford an ambulance or something!” I reasoned._ _

__He shook his head. “Just call me, alright?”_ _

__I gave a slow nod, not meeting his gaze. I'd thought about it, I really had, but..._ _

__“What? What're you worried about?” he asked, putting a hand on my shoulder._ _

__I sighed. “I don't wanna... You know, have to ask you for everything.”_ _

__John blinked. “I've helped you out with stuff, like, _once._ And that was because I insisted.”_ _

__I dropped my shoulders. “But that's not true! I mean, I've been going through shit and you're always there, giving me advice, and you always pay for everything – I mean fuck's sake you're offering to get me to Canada for _free._ There's gotta be _something_ I can do on my own.”_ _

__John rubbed his forehead for a moment, and let out a slow breath. “Alright, I get what you mean. But for real. Walking half a mile on a sprained ankle is out of the question, alright? That's a medical emergency. And you can always call me for that, I don't care what I've got going on, that's important. Right?”_ _

__I nodded. I don't know what I was thinking, really – hurting myself to feel more independent? Or just to not inconvenience him? I knew I didn't want to end up dependent on him and get annoying. But I don't think it really struck me how stupid I was being until I heard it from him._ _

__“As for the rest of it,” he continued, “Don't you mention money, I've seen your fridge. And honestly, I like doing that kind of stuff. You're... you know, special to me. I want to make sure you know it.”_ _

__My gaze snapped up to him and his pink cheeks. I felt my face flushing red, but before I could open my mouth to stammer some kind of response, he carried on._ _

__“And you're always there to hear my sob stories, so it's not like you owe me something.” he reminded me, leaning back in the couch._ _

__I grinned. “Nah, those are pretty scarce,”_ _

__He raised an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”_ _

__It wasn't, but now I was intrigued. I sat up a little straighter. “I'm all ears.”_ _

__John rolled his eyes with a lazy smile. “Hm. Could tell you about my Aunt Tracey.”_ _

__“I already don't like her.” I declared with a grin._ _

__“Yeah, same as the rest of us. She's my mom's older sister, and she's _super_ religious. Like, to the point that she can't go two minutes without quoting the Bible or doing some 'Hail Mary's. And her church says, since I've got crazy abilities, but I sin too much to be an angel, I'm obviously a servant of the Devil.”_ _

__I blinked. “Oh. Right.”_ _

__He nodded. “Yup. So naturally, I'm a demon who was given human form by Satan, so that I can go around recruiting people to Hell's army and burn down churches and take over the world as we know it.”_ _

__“That sounds... delightful,” I muttered meekly._ _

__“Yup. So as soon as I started showing signs of sorcery, she just flat out told my mom that she had to either abandon me somewhere, or never let me see the light of day, or else she'd never speak to her again, and she'd get the whole church on their asses.”_ _

__I felt myself going a little pale. “What the fuck?”_ _

__“But oh no, my parents were actually _condoning_ my learning sorcery. They read up on it so they wouldn't mess me up too bad – and fuck knows that's just the highest form of heresy. So Aunt Tracy literally got everyone in the church to egg the house, scream scripture out on our front lawn all night, harass us in the streets, try and grab me from the stroller – even broke into the house at one point. And the sheriff was completely for it, he thought we were all demons.”_ _

__My jaw must have been hanging open by this point because my mouth was dry when I asked, “...Are you serious?”_ _

__He nodded again. “Yeah. So they moved, and the whole family agreed to never tell Tracey where. For ages, they all just completely ignored her. But when my grandma was dying – I think I was about eight – my grandpa finally talked her around enough so that we could all gather under the same roof and no one would be under threat of death. I remember my mom introducing me to her – but she wouldn't look at me, or talk to me, or anything. But I brushed her arm when I was walking past and she _screamed,_ sprinted to the bathroom, and didn't come out for hours. I thought she was sick, I didn't get why until years later.”_ _

__For a solid couple seconds, I could only stare. “Dude, holy shit.” I whispered._ _

__He shrugged. “I dunno, that's more of a sob story for my parents. I didn't see much of it. I mean, my parents aren't really dependable, but they've always been really protective of me when they – you know – remember.”_ _

__“.. _Remember?”_ I demanded._ _

__He nodded. “Most of the time it's just funny. Like I was seven, and they gave me money to go into the gas station and buy a candy bar, and then they just completely forgot I was in there and went home. It was only a ten minute walk back, so it didn't really matter but-”_ _

__“They just forgot you _existed?!”_ I cried, demanding some kind of explanation but he was just grinning like a big dumbass._ _

__“Yeah. Or like, my mom fuckin' _loves_ oysters, and until I was about eleven she'd forget I'm super allergic to shellfish, so once in a while I'd just make my own dinner. Or if I had to get a ride somewhere, they'd one hundred percent forget if I wasn't dragging them out the door. I mean I dunno _how_ many signatures I've forged just cause they'd agree to sign it, and then they just don't remember.”_ _

__I leaned my head up on my arm, defeated. “Dude, what the fuck. I was liking these people a minute ago,”_ _

__“No for real, they're great – they let me do whatever I wanted if they were watching, they'd help me out with homework every night – the whole thing. They just weren't ready for kids. I mean fuck, they were just getting out of high school and the condom broke.”_ _

__I let out a long breath, shaking my head. “Fuck, man. I guess if you got out alright,”_ _

__He thought about it for a second. “I mean, pretty much. Do have this though,” he remarked, holding out his index finger, pointing with his thumb to a thin line that circled the skin just above the top knuckle._ _

__I frowned. “What's... that?” I asked tentatively. I had one idea, but I really didn't want to be right._ _

__“Chopping celery when my mom brought home shellfish. I missed and took off the top of my finger,” he explained, completely nonchalant as he is. “It wasn't really a big deal though, we just went and got it sewed back on. Can't feel anything in it though.”_ _

__I curled in on myself like a snail on salt, wringing out my hands and wincing like I could taste it on my tongue. _“Nope, _fuck that, fuck that!”___ _

____But John just grinned, and we went back and forth with weird childhood memories for hours. They went from gross, to funny, to bitter, to honestly kind of traumatic pretty quickly. I think I was talking about some mental health problems in my family and how they really messed up my dad, and that was why he's always been really distant – and then, I stopped in my tracks and just looked at John._ _ _ _

____He was watching me intently, his head tilted and brow furrowed with concern, waiting patiently for me to speak again._ _ _ _

____“I've never actually talked about this before.” I thought aloud._ _ _ _

____“Why not?” he asked._ _ _ _

____I shrugged. “Dunno. Guess I didn't have anyone to tell.” I murmured. I didn't mean for it to sound as depressing as it did._ _ _ _

____John's reached over and took my hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss._ _ _ _

____“You can tell me anything.” he promised me, and his gentle smile is the only thing that convinces me that angels might exist. There's just no way an earthly creature is capable of kindness that pure. In an instant, the outside world, everything that existed beyond that couch, faded to nothing. All the stress, and the bullshit – obligations, responsibilities, assholes – all of it was miles away, and there was only this. Just his hands, one warm around mine, the other tracing idle patterns on my knee. Just his eyes, focused and kind, drawing me closer. Just his lips, soft, flushed, whispering my name-_ _ _ _

_____Ring ring ring!__ _ _ _

____...Fuck everything._ _ _ _

____Snapped out of my daze, I reached for my phone. Work. Of course._ _ _ _

____“Uh, gimme a sec,” I muttered, and John nodded._ _ _ _

____\----- John's POV -----_ _ _ _

____That was seriously close. Too close. Goddamn, like if his phone hadn't gone off... Let's just say the next morning would've been pretty fuckin' awkward._ _ _ _

____Immediately when he picked up, he frowned. “Are you alright?” he asked. Then silence. Then, after a little while, just occasional, 'I'm sorry's and 'okay's, and I thought maybe he was getting chewed out until eventually, he hung up, looking slightly dumb-struck._ _ _ _

____He stared at me for a moment, then began, “It's like-” he looked at the time, “It's one in the morning, and my coworker calls me – one of the guys who's supposed to be helping me on assignments – he's drunk as fuck, saying his wife's leaving him and taking the kids, and that's why he's not been at work lately. But apparently, now she's saying she'll let him visit if he gets his act together, so,” he shrugged, “I guess that's good.”_ _ _ _

____I raised an eyebrow. “Really hope he's just drinking to celebrate then,”_ _ _ _

____He sighed, leaning back on the couch. “Yeah, no kidding.” He pulled his mouth to the side. “Shit, though, one in the morning? My sleep schedule's gonna be so fucked,” he sighed, shaking his head._ _ _ _

____“Yeah, you were out for a while,” I remarked. I guess from seven to one, so that's pretty respectable. He didn't look tired at all, but I had a feeling if we stayed on this couch, something would happen that I was gonna regret._ _ _ _

____“Could go for a walk or something.” I suggested._ _ _ _

____Something tells me he was thinking along the same lines – it was dangerous, sitting this close, completely dark out, both of us a little too awake. He nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good.”_ _ _ _

____“I'll get a jacket,” I muttered, porting back to my room to grab a hoodie and flashing back before he stood up. Pulling it over my head, I pushed the hair out of my face, and couldn't help a wince when I saw him reaching for a metal gray crutch. I held the door open and he hobbled out. It was pretty clear he wasn't used to it yet._ _ _ _

____He locked the door, and turned to face the stairs with a quiet groan._ _ _ _

____I considered just porting us outside, but I figured that defeated the purpose of a walk. So instead I gave a little, “Here,” lifting a hand to raise him just slightly off the ground._ _ _ _

____His eyes went wide, instinctively holding out a hand to balance himself. I remembered I'd used telekinesis on him before, but not when he didn't have... something to hold onto. That is, uh, me._ _ _ _

____“You alright?” I asked. Not everyone takes to it._ _ _ _

____But he nodded, and a grin came over his face. “Hell yeah.”_ _ _ _

____I smiled. “Cool.” And I brought him steadily down the stairs with me._ _ _ _

____I was acutely aware of the way Smitty was adjusting his weight in the air, drifting around like an astronaut getting his bearings. I blinked when I felt him touch my hair._ _ _ _

____I glanced over. He was sitting with his legs crossed, giving me an innocent look. “You mind?” he asked._ _ _ _

____I shook my head and continued out the door, feeling him gently smooth over my hair, picking up strands and weaving them through his fingers. It was hard to focus on walking, my feet suddenly dragging. Then I remembered, we were in public now._ _ _ _

____“I can walk,” Smitty assured me, but I shrugged, putting my hands in my pockets._ _ _ _

____“Not really a point. Just has to look convincing.” I replied, easing him toward the ground, but not quite putting him down. Just the tiniest bit above the cement, he could appear to be walking without putting any strain on his foot._ _ _ _

____“I'll take the crutch,” I offered._ _ _ _

____“That's the least I can do,” he assured me with a grin._ _ _ _

____We started walking into the night. The streets were quiet, with a warm breeze. I loved this kind of weather._ _ _ _

____I looked back at Smitty to see him staring down at his feet, looking completely transfixed on the way his legs were moving._ _ _ _

____“You okay?” I asked._ _ _ _

____“It's like... surprisingly hard to pretend to be walking.” he remarked with a laugh._ _ _ _

____“I believe it. Wanna sit down?” I inquired, glancing around for a bench or something, but there wasn't anything around._ _ _ _

____He shook his head. “Nah, it's fun. It's just trippy.”_ _ _ _

____I nodded. “Yeah, took me a while to get used to it.” I remembered._ _ _ _

____He looked up at me, eyes wide. “You do this? Like, just float everywhere?” he demanded._ _ _ _

____“Sure. It's good for endurance. And walking kinda sucks,” I explained, and there was this flash of child-like light in his eyes, like I was just the most amazing thing there was. I couldn't help the subtle smile I felt tugging at my lips. Smitty was the one person who looked at me like that, and didn't just immediately follow it up by asking me to . Instead he wore this cheeky grin and said, “Dude, that's awesome.”_ _ _ _

____We wandered lazily through the town, headed nowhere. Most places were closed down for the night, only the neon strips and orange spotlights left to lead the way. I reached over a bit to touch his hand. He flinched – I must've caught him off guard. But I could see him struggling to reign in a smile, so I figured, fuck it, and took his hand smoothly into mine. He nearly tripped over nothing – in the most literal sense. Cause he's fucking adorable._ _ _ _

____\----- Smitty's POV -----_ _ _ _

____Holy fuck. Okay. Right. This should be normal. We've been... you know, doing whatever this is for months, surely by now... Yeah, totally normal. It's chill. Holding hands in public. While I'm floating. Like actually floating. ...Totally normal._ _ _ _

____I was immediately worried that my hand was sweaty. Or I was squeezing too hard, or too light, or my arm was too stiff or too lax – hell, I was like a middle schooler again. It's not like I've never done this before. But with John... I don't know. There was just something about him. I was so used to having to be the suave one, to make all the first moves, who had it all figured out. But John took that weight right from my hands, and in return he gave me a smile that said, it doesn't have to be like that. There doesn't have to be a pressure, or some expectation to meet._ _ _ _

____He just did what felt natural, like it was effortless. It's like he was always acutely aware of where I was at, what was okay and what was too far. There were times I kind of wished that he'd push it, but at the same time, a bigger part of me was endlessly grateful that he never did. I could see it in his face sometimes, when he wanted to be stupid, when his eyes were dark and his lips parted – but he never took that step._ _ _ _

____I watched him from the corner of my eye. I kept my smile to myself. Tonight, before we got back to my place, I made a promise: I was going to have my own little victory. I didn't know what, but something. He deserved to know that, even though what we had was illusive as all hell, I liked him in a very real sense. Well, that, and I really wanted to make him blush._ _ _ _

____It took me a while to notice it, but John had changed me. Everything was different – the way I saw myself, the way I saw the world... This time last year, I was a straight-laced guy, fresh out of high school, walking the streets of Canada with my head in the ground to everything going on around me, waiting for a miracle. I had one purpose: to succeed. Nothing else really mattered. John had opened my eyes to little things, things I used to pass off as meaningless or not worth my time. Suddenly, I was wondering who I was, what I really wanted for myself, what made _me_ happy. And suddenly, I was looking at this man, with careless white hair and a knowing smile, and feeling my mind go fuzzy and my fingers getting restless and my blood sprinting tirelessly through my veins. It was strange. I was working now more than ever, but at the same time, I'd never been so convinced that everything else – happiness, friendship, love – was so much more important._ _ _ _

____Just being around a sorcerer, seeing everything he could do, and what was possible, changed my perspective about things, too. Around me, there were trees, streetlights, cement, sounds of passing cars and the moseying breeze. A few months ago, I would've had nothing to say about any of it. But not anymore._ _ _ _

____I turned to John, curious. “Can you use telekinesis on _anything?”__ _ _ _

____John frowned. “Probably, I mean, if you worked on it enough. Size makes it difficult, or if it's attached to something else, or if it's moving – there's a lot of factors.” he replied._ _ _ _

____I nodded. “So... in theory, could you like – move light? Or sound?” I asked._ _ _ _

____He smirked. “I read a book about it once. _Technically,_ it's possible. But the strength of your influence – your sorcery skill, basically – would have to be off the charts, they move so damn fast. It'd be impossible for humans.” he explained._ _ _ _

____My eyes went wide. “Wait, impossible for _humans._ So can other species do sorcery?”_ _ _ _

____He grinned. “I wondered about that, too. Not really. No one really knows how sorcery works, but they do know that sorcerers have a structural difference in their brain – there's one section that's a _lot_ bigger than in normal people. But most other species don't even have that section. And if they do, it's really small. Just about nonexistent.” He shrugged. “But who knows, maybe sorcery's just more rare in other species, so we haven't found it yet.”_ _ _ _

____“Guess you've read a lot about it,” I remarked, kind of impressed._ _ _ _

____He shrugged. “Kinda. But people really don't know much about it. Everything's theoretical.”_ _ _ _

____We were getting into the heart of the city. The grass was thinning to nothing, and the buildings were stretching gradually skyward._ _ _ _

____“That's so cool though. I mean people can get ridiculous with it, but just with what you can do, you could probably get damn near anywhere,” I noted, pondering it._ _ _ _

____John thought about it. “Yeah, I guess so. Teleporting to a new place can be a bitch.”_ _ _ _

____“But with telekinesis too, you could get to some crazy places. Like, could you get on top of one of these things?” I asked, nodding up at the skyscrapers surrounding us._ _ _ _

____He glanced up. “Hell, that's easy.” he replied with a smirk._ _ _ _

____“See, that's awesome!” I laughed._ _ _ _

____He was quiet for a second – I would have worried if he wasn't still smiling. He glanced behind us, then turned to me with a sly look. He asked, “Wanna go?”_ _ _ _

____My eyes went wide. “Seriously?”_ _ _ _

____He nodded. “Yeah, there's no one around.”_ _ _ _

____I looked up at the building, having to strain my neck to see the top. Just thinking about it, I could feel my legs start to shake. It sounded _terrifying_. Agreeing to this would be the second idiotic thing I did that day, but I trusted him. “Fuck yeah.”_ _ _ _

____We stopped – or, he stopped us – in our tracks. He took my other hand, and gradually, we began to lift further above the ground. One foot, two feet, three... Until eventually, the first-story windows of the surrounding buildings were at our feet._ _ _ _

____I wanted to ask him if he was sure, but one glance at his stupid, beautiful grin told me everything was going to be just fine. The second stories passed us, then the third. I squeezed his hands, not wanting to look down, but my eyes were glued to the cars shrinking beneath us, the sidewalk shriveling into ribbons._ _ _ _

____“Smitty,” he murmured, and immediately I looked back to him. He was still smiling. I told myself to focus on his face. Don't think about how I'd lost found of how many rows of windows we'd drifted past, or how it was cooler up here, or how if anything went wrong were definitely, _absolutely_ dead – just watch his face. His eyes. His hair. His lips. The way his hands were pulling me closer, and now he held me from my waist, his arms wrapped around me. Everything was going to be okay. I was safe. I was a hundred feet from the surface of the earth and I was going to be just fine. Because John was here, holding me tightly._ _ _ _

____Gradually, my death grip on his shoulders eased. I could breathe again – that is, I could force air though teeth with some effort. I found my cheeks locked in an adrenaline-crazy smile, my mind reeling off the tracks and frozen stiff all at once. In a word, I was panicking. Panicking because we were still rising, panicking because he was so close to me, because this was so insanely unnatural and beautiful all at once, because I wanted to feel his hair in my fingers and if I moved my hand just slightly then I could._ _ _ _

____John leaned forward, I know he did, because now his forehead rested gently against mine. Fuck. Holy fuck._ _ _ _

____A phrase rang in my ears: little victory. I needed my little victory. Tonight._ _ _ _

____And as I was vaguely aware of the rooftop rising slowly toward my toes, I moved my hand to his cheek, and with some dizzying mix of quivering confidence and lethargic impatience, touched a kiss to his lips. Finally._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm marking this as finished, because there's a 90% chance it won't be continued. But I mean... Maybe? Really not sure.
> 
> Anyway! Hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading! :)


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